Greetings my brothers and sisters,

I hope this letter finds you well. I understand that I will never be able to set foot on my home soil again but I hope this letter and the ones following it might somehow reach you one day.

I have been called to the place we are familiar with as the Exile’s Isle. We who serve the Church must be ready to go where we are most needed. And where are we needed more than the very land where it’s inhabitants call themselves the Corrupt?

I learned the language of the land I am departing for. It was difficult to both obtain the sparse texts necessary to study their tongue and the language itself is complicated, at least to me.

For me to make my journey through legal channels, I was required to accept the brand of two crossed swords. I asked for it to be on my forehead so I could not hide it but I was advised against that. Instead, I ultimately received my mark on the back of my neck. I have to roll down my collar so the cloth would stop rubbing against it but I hope to get accustomed to it soon.

I will be boarding the ship soon. They will let me roam the decks freely until the island comes into view. My hosts will then row me to the shores and hopefully make it back safely to accept their payment from the Church.

If there is anything I must ask of you, it would be for you to pray. Pray for my safety and more importantly that I serve as a sufficient example of our creed.

Kindest regards,

Augustine White

Week 1:

It has been a week and the brand still smarts. The ocean air seems to aggravate it. They call this place an island but it is almost a third the size of the mainland itself. The locals are quite adept at treating such wounds as a lot of them have matching scars.

Speaking of the locals, I was picked up almost immediately by a band called the Eternal Thorns. The Eternal Thorns for lack of a better word owned the section of the beach I was placed on. Such territory was precious for it gave them ready access a variety of resources.

Their leader is a man named Anvernus and I found him to be reasonable. The conditions for my acceptance were simple. I had to discard my surname and pull my weight. The band was all one family, each one only had a single name to answer by. They speak to each other like siblings. They could not trust me with the nets nor was I a warrior so I was simply to educate them with what I knew. It seemed an ideal situation for my own calling so I have found no issue.

Much to my surprise, some of them do worship our god if only as an addition to their pantheon. Many of their ancestors worshipped the Redeemer once but turned to older gods when they arrived here. They are aware of our message of forgiveness but unfortunately worship seem to be limited to the more pragmatic offering prayers after a grim deed is already done.

Week 2:

Among my charming students is a woman named Beatrix. She is maybe two years younger than me at most but she is completely illiterate. They all are, even Anvernus.

Literacy is dreadfully rare on the Isle. Apparently the Eternal Thorns had a scholar of sorts among their ranks at one time but they parted ways when the man only wished to teach his secrets to a select few. They claim the man was a warlock and took his students with him after Anvernus stated that their pursuit of the arcane contributed nothing of import to the band.

I can understand their reasoning. Most of the techniques used by the warriors and ship builders were matters that could only be mastered through experience rather than extracted from pages. Learning how to read wasted time that could be better spent training with a sword or hunting for food.

Beatrix understands me so she is providing me assistance in my lessons. It turns out I am not as adept in their tongue as I imagined so she is correcting my spoken errors while I’m teaching written letters.

Unlike me, Beatrix possesses no brand. She like many others is Isleborn. A majority of the souls in this wretched place did nothing to deserve such a fate but had instead been born here.

The brand is evidence of their crimes. To have it on one’s face marks one as a murderer while pirates have theirs on their chest and mere thieves have the mark on their hands. Those born on the Isle are not marked by the brand. Those that inherit their ancestors’ wills bear it on their clothing. Breatrix has her mark on her sleeves. As one with the brand, what I brought with me will suffice though the weather has already began to wear them away. Only the most extreme seem to brand themselves.

The brand is what unites them, it is what makes their corruption apparent. They are endlessly reminded of their own wickedness. That, I believe is why they call themselves the Corrupt, to acknowledge that they were bound together by sin rather than nationality.

Week 3:

There are no established laws here. However, there are many unspoken understandings, many of which are common sense and some that I have likely yet to come across.

The Eternal Thorns are family. Families fight, fiercely, but a brother is not more likely to kill a brother because there is no law to stop them. They simply do what comes naturally to them.

I do agree that this would ordinarily lead to madness but it is not nearly as chaotic as I was led to believe before coming here. Unfortunately, I sense a trend of valuing strength over virtue. If a debate can not be settled, it will be resolved with a duel, the victor having the final say over the matter, similar to how a gentleman might protect one’s honor. Needless to say, I do my best not to argue lest things end that way for me.

Some are saying that my lessons are not enough to justify my presence and I must agree. I am distracting my students so not only am I not providing help in the daily activities but I am taking away those that might give helping hands.

I will not stop my lessons. I can teach and perform tasks at the same time.

I offer to help so they let me prepare meals. They said I would lose the net if they took me fishing and I’d scare away the prey if I went hunting for seals.

With me showing a willingness to contribute, their assessments of my contributions are now more lighthearted than judgemental. Still, there must be more I can do.

Week 4:

They finally trusted me with holding a net. I could not sit idly by while the others brought in the food. It was difficult and the net almost slipped from my fingers. They warned me after the fact that if I did lose hold of the net that they expected me to dive in after it. Whether or not there be sharks or serpents nearby.

I believe it might be possible that you do not understand the breakthrough this was. I was trusted with their livelihood. It was one thing to speak to them but to actually do something with them, I truly do feel like I am a part of the family.

They now humor me when I preach. I feel that they take time to listen if only to have something to do during the evenings once the sun has set. I’m afraid I am adopting more of their ways than they are learning my own.

The Church teaches of sins and virtue but to these people, vice could be virtue and virtue could be vice. Some values remain untwisted while others are unrecognizable from the original concept they were taken from. The locals despise pity, regret, frivalty, waste, conceit, weakness and are most likely not quick to forgive.

Week 5:

I discovered that Beatrix plans to head to the mainland one day. She intends to use the knowledge I’m giving her to spy on the mainland.

I fear at this rate I may run out of paper. It is a rare commodity here. My students need something to write on so they are using pages from the journal. I will try to be temperate and only write what should be written,

Week 18

My lessons have gotten to the point that we are carving our letters into driftwood. We then feed our writing to the campfires so it is more efficient than when we used mere paper so I was able to save a few pages for myself.

A rather strange boy named Hyren showed interest in learning how to read. Indeed, he is just a boy by our standards as he had yet to kill anyone. I would have thought otherwise, his large stature and the way he carried himself would have convinced me that he was an adult in his early twenties but he was merely in his mid teens and still growing. This would not be the first time we met but this would be the first time he has expressed to me interest in letters rather than weapons.

It surprised me when I first discovered that he was younger than me and Beatrix. I understand that the Isle has a way of aging those on it but Hyren was an oddity. I would measure him at just over six feet tall and with a muscular build to suit his height.

Hyren seems accustomed to getting what he wants with force. I’ve seen him push around others but with me he seems patient. He says that me coming to the Isle of my own will was reason enough for him to respect me.

However, I think he’s rather like Beatrix. He just wants to get on my good side so he can learn what he can to use for his own ends. I did not turn away Beatrix nor have I done so for any other so I will do my best to guide him along the right path.

Painful as it is to consider, Beatrix has likely killed at least one person. I’m the oldest person in the band that remains unblooded. I’m the the child of the family but my brothers and sisters do not seem ready to lose me so they do not press for me to join a raid.

Week 30

It has been more than six, perhaps even approaching seven months.

A team of our most athletic individuals journeyed inland to compete.

The bands met at a tree.

Like those on the mainland, we gather for games. These are not the jovial events I witnessed at home, blood was shed. Unfortunately, we only sent out small groups at any one time to participate while the rest of the band remained to protect our territory while our better fighters were away.

Among the most popular games and my own personal favorite that I wished I was there to watch would be the Ring of Blades. A circle was established then lined with swords planted in the ground to form a fence. The first one to leave the circle lost.

This was how most duels were expected to be fought. One could bring anything to the circle but the victor had the rights to claim whatever the defeated party carried in. It goes without saying that the swords around the circle could be used in whatever manner they pleased.

The most common trend during this time would be for both to bring nothing with only their own lives to lose. I found it heartening to hear how many stepped out alive. The fights got bloody but when one surrendered, it usually ended there. Those that lost consciousness were often merely thrown out of the circle by the opponent.

Our bands fight each other constantly, but hardly ever to the last man. If I bothered to write down ever fight we had against others or even among ourselves then I would be quickly out of precious pages. If one did not accept another champion’s surrender, then no one would accept that person’s surrender. Fighting with a stronger opponent was an forever looming threat so only the most confident or foolhardy failed to show mercy to their own when it could be afforded.

During the games, one only lost if one admitted defeat or left the circle, if someone killed their opponent and for whatever reason stepped out of the ring before the corpse was thrown out, then the dead one would be the victor. No such technicality existed in battles, victory meant little if one was not alive to celebrate it but this was for sport, not honor, they could enjoy such trivialities during this time.

Mercy would seem a strange concept to exist within a supposedly lawless society. However, the law that banished their ancestors to this island showed them no mercy so each person here understands the value of it. We are not heartless, it was likely passion that led us to crime and it is vengeance that compels my brothers and sisters to remain fighting generations later.

It is the law itself that was inhuman. To judge what was right and wrong is the duty of the divine, not us. To coldly condemn another for being human is what the we view as unjust or at least the embodiment of hypocrisy.

The games concluded with the participants gathering in the north. Every band prepared a ship to race around the island. This was an event founded by thieves, murderers, and cheats, there were some rules for this one race.

Bands that possessed territory on the shore kept track of markers, stones with symbols of the band they were taken from. This was supposed to represent taking spoils.

I was trusted with the markers while others played the role of defenders. It was expected for the markers to be hidden, even fought for. The few things not allowed was for weapons to be drawn on each other, sabotage before the race began, and poisons to be used.

I placed our stones in the campfire and kept it stocked and burning. Most simply grabbed them out of the fire and left.

We did not win the race. That honor went to the Ice Devils. The Ice Devils like their name implied had a champion with a gift that allowed her to freeze the surrounding water, trapping many of their opponents in place. The gift was considered a weapon but she never directed it towards anyone so the Ice Devils never violated any of the few rules.

Week 31

Hyren and I were discussing how the Ice Devils won the race. It was then that Hyren informed me that he despised the gifted.

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What was I supposed to say to him when even I question the humanity of those that could summon the elements at will?

There are none among the Eternal Thorns that were considered gifted. My predecessor saw to that when he left with his acolytes. We are merely ordinary humans.

The boy does not seem to be jealous like I first thought. His thoughts were not like some where they might ask what they would do with such powers. He seems to hold them in contempt, viewing them as weak for using inhuman abilities to perform the same tasks he could with his bare hands.

I doubt even he could stop a fleet, armed with willpower alone.

In regards to the blessed, he showed a similar but tamer outlook.

There is a difference between being gifted and being blessed if only a matter of semantics. To us, to call someone gifted would be stating someone was born that way while blessed suggests that it was developed or earned.

The most common of those considered blessed would be what I recognize as berserkers. There is strength only those in the grasp of madness can call their own.

The line between gifted and blessed is difficult to distinguish. A gift might became apparent later in life or blessings could be attributed to someone’s natural prowess. I would even consider Hyren possibly gifted from his immense stature.

To have earned a blessing is more respectable than being born with a gift. With the exception of some like Hyren, we have no disdain for talent but inborn power reminds many of us of the royalty that we were freed from. Those with gifts earn the rights for the title of champion the same as everyone else. Sometimes rules are established before a duel, to fight with just our bare hands instead of weapons. Stranger gifts are considered weapons, the ability to freeze another is no more deadly than an arrow to the heart.

I asked him how he would treat one of his brothers and sisters if they had a unique ability. He said he would treat them the same.

I allowed that to lull me, thinking he meant it the same way I would have meant it. That he would still care about them. Moments later he elaborated that he would expect them to perform the same tasks as everyone else.

When I inquired with Beatrix how the supposed warlock was treated, she stated that he received the same treatment I did. I found that odd as Hyren seemed tolerant of me.

It then occurred to me. The warlock left the family, that was why Hyren distrusted those deemed special.

Beatrix corrected me. My forerunner was treated as well as me but was not as inviting as me. Many of the students I had would not have been accepted by him.

Week 35

Beatrix jokes that I should join the Last Templars.

Perhaps I should but they already believe. The souls I should concern myself with are the ones that are lost.

Besides, if I left, who would be left to teach literature? I suppose Beatrix could do that soon enough.

Week 53

It took just over a year but I am proud to say that Beatrix has mastered written language. I doubt I could have performed the same feat. Her spelling still needs work but her comprehension skills and handwriting is suitable for her age.

What’s better is that she understands that she still needs to improve. We are spending sessions now where we go over her speech patterns to eliminate her accent.

When the my siblings bother to speak my native tongue, they speak with fragments of an accent I recognize to be similar to the back alleys of Aviland. My brothers and sisters split their words with raised vowels and omit  the th sound in their words for a simple f or v. They said ah in place of er for some words but that seems inconsistent among us and we otherwise clearly enunciate our consonants. My siblings seem to possess some refinement in a similar way a slumlord might imitate the upper class.

Week 68

Hyren has left us, for now. He joined a raiding party so he might become a man. The raid was being led by Anvernus so we were left with our brother, Lander, in his place.

They are raiding the mainland, the heart of civilization. Our nation’s founder was a genius beyond his time but it is not the founder that still rules. There’s no glory to be found in inherited power, today’s royalty are but shadows of a past age.

Week 87

Avernus and the rest have not made it back in time for the games. It is of little surprise we won little prestige this year.  

Beatrix competed in the Thieves’ Run.

She did not emerge the winner and there was no prize for merely participating. She may have been the third or fourth best but there was no distinction among the defeated.

Crime within a society governed by law reveals the innate evil within humanity while compassion found within a lawless land testifies to the innate goodness within us. Perhaps the true essence of human nature is contrary. Filth tends to be brought to the surface in the face of prosperity and kindness thrives in times of desperation.

Week 91

The raiding party has returned safely. I know I should not accept violence but I am glad that most of them returned alive. Hyren has gotten even taller, he is measured to be over seven feet tall now and indisputably our largest warrior.

Hyren even brought with him some books. He is not as adept as some of the other students so he needs my help with more complicated terms and of course I agreed to help him.

The books Hyren brought were historical texts. He was not the most studious, he could go over entire chapters without taking a single note then fixate on a single detail.

His project is to make a map. He had not been far inland so beyond the Seagate was foreign territory to him and most others of the Isle. He was taking context of the rivers and canals.

I am not ignorant to what he is doing. He is not subtle about his ambitions like Beatrix was. He is charting the rivers so he can lead a raid. He could just ask his elders about such things and I am pretty sure he did but few ever made it beyond the Seagate which seems to be his main focus.

I can not tell if he is a genius or brute. He only seems to display intelligence when it suits him or aligns with his interests. Other times, he seems willfully ignorant of finer details. From what I can grasp, he is as smart as he wants to be. His simplicity is just another form of brilliance, focusing on the most direct method rather than concern himself with insignificant factors.

If I aid him, I will have a hand in the chaos he will surely bring. If I neglect to help him, he might lead himself and others to a deadly trap.

I will do what I must. I will correct his misconceptions but I will not give him any new ideas. Maybe I can convince him to try for a safer route.

Week 129

Anvernus is dead. Hyren killed him.

Hyren acted within his rights. Anvernus did not submit nor did he ask for mercy. When I heard the news, I was horrified but I should understand by now such things were commonplace.

Week 134

Beatrix accidentally killed one of our opponents in the race. She sabotaged a boat while its crew were collecting markers. I do not know how I can be surprised by that. I figured out she intended to be a spy and likely had been trained for-

Not even the enemy band holds her accountable. It was a freak accident. She toyed with the sails and as the ship turned the boom, the pole, struck the man in the head. It might have still occurred even if she did not tamper with it but more likely than not she was the cause.

It would have been stranger if no one died during the race. Even with some regulation, there were deaths every year but I Note this because Beatrix was involved. I should stop showing favoritism, what should matter is that someone died and I will pray for that soul along with every other.

She had not attended any raids to make the best of my lessons but she had indeed killed before.

When I asked for a demonstration, I did not witness anything wild or feral but a style that required no small amount of finesse. It would be easier for me if she had been a frenzied warrior like others I’ve seen but her movements were so purposeful. Her techniques were not for combat but murder.

With Hyren in the Ring of Blades, we won that competition along with ultimately the race.

Week 158

It took Beatrix a year to learn Common and another to refine it to hide her accent then one more year to master the poise and mannerisms associated with the upper class. Much to her distaste, she can pass herself as the ideal noble to the point that real royals would be suspected as imposters before she was. She is a fake that is superior to the genuine.

There really is nothing left for me to teach her. I have kept no secrets whether they be personal or political. She can hold my place while I join the next raiding party.

I can not ignore this any longer. My hands are already unclean. I must witness what our warriors do with my own eyes.

I asked Hyren if he still intends to attack the Seagate and he tells me that he indeed does. However, he and a few ships would not be enough to break through so we are to depart along a safer route for a different reason than I had hoped. The band needs to grow stronger, we need to gather resources to prepare for war.

I think I understand him now. The hatred he has, it is meaningless. It is the same as everyone else’s, inherited from his parents and their parents before them.

There was no turning him away from this. His was a legacy of hatred that will never die.

Week 173

There was a kindness in the raiders’ brutality. We inspired no false hope, they were not con artists or anything similar in nature. We killed and stole but that was all they did. There were no niceties to make the cruelty sting all the more.

If those we passed by survived, those left behind could rebuild. The attack was little different than any other disaster. The survivors will find as much fault in themselves as those that witnessed nature’s wrath. They will likely convince themselves there was more they could have done but it was a difference in strength rather than a moral failing compared to the despair experienced by towns that invited charlatans into their homes.

There was no negotiation, merely annihilation. I take solace that Heaven was those poor souls’ destination, unlike my siblings and I. We belong in hell.

The Isle is hell, a man-made one to punish the living while the divine would lay claim to the dead. Surely, those born on the Isle were born as innocent as any other but those that survived to adulthood could only have done so by earning their place there.

I know what the citizenry think of us. We are barbarians to them, mindless animals. To us, farmers have little distinction from the sheep they raise and soldiers are little more than dogs. They are little more than beasts of burden slaving away for their royal masters but animals do not do what we do, we are far worse than beasts.

We are vengeful demons extracting justice upon the lands that deemed it their right to usurp judgement from the divine. We are a plague.

Week 175

My brothers and sister tell me I am tired. They insist that I even earned some rest.

Impossible, I have not contributed enough.

I am so close to the answer. The light is most easily found in darkness. I deluded myself.

I abandoned my family and friends to become a missionary.

I see no ghosts like I feared I might. I know the departed have no reason to walk this earth but am I so far gone that I lack the capacity to imagine their faces? I am numb.

Week 187

Hyren brought us all to the games but he competed alone. There was little any one person could do against more than eight feet of armor and over three hundred and fifty pounds of muscle

If we did engage in combat, I am unsure who would have won. It would have been us against the best of every other band.

This is how we rise. No need for reason, logic, or magic, only strength. Could there be anything more human?

Hyren has dubbed our alliance the Storm. There are no Eternal Thorns, Ice Devils, Brass Fangs, Serpent Riders, and the like anymore. We are the lightning. We are the thunder. We are the winds. We are the flood.

Final Note:

There is an objective truth that theologians, politicians, and warriors can not deny, that humanity itself is corrupt. Everyone is united in a fundamental, primal level. We can pretend to be something else, mask it with society but that is no cure. We must acknowledge our own nature if we seek to improve ourselves.

Among the spoils we collected was some wine. I took the surviving empty bottles and filled them with these pages.

I send this message now as a warning. My final act of compassion to my old homeland. If it be the will of our god, may it reach the right hands. If not, may it sink to the bottom of the ocean and never be found.

For those unfortunate enough to cross our path, I do apologize. It is by no particular sin that I seek justice. So long as the system that banished us to our Isle remains, people like Hyren will be born to lead us.

It might take us a few years to prepare but we will come. That is merely the calm before a confrontation that has been building for generations. We need to gather sufficient weapons and armor and secure loyalties.

Prepare your defenses. We are the Storm. May this end with us.

Augustine